


Nancy's Teddy Bear

by StevesKhakis (orphan_account)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Barbara "Barb" Holland Lives, Being Walked In On, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy is mean and Steve likes it, Did anyone say s1 Steve Harrington?, Dubious consent if you squint really hard, First Time, Light Humiliation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Coercion, Steve Harrington Being a Brat, i wrote this instead of working, predatory behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/StevesKhakis
Summary: “You’ll learn,” Billy tells him, stroking himself eagerly as he gets closer, “Or you’ll gag,” He sneers meanly, “Either way, get on your knees and open that pretty mouth, yeah?”Or, the one in which Nancy's parents go out of town for the weekend and Nancy decides to throw a house party and of course, Billy has to go and corrupt everyone.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 56
Kudos: 513





	Nancy's Teddy Bear

Okay, so Billy can’t really say this is the first time he’s got his dick sucked at a house party. It isn’t even his first time getting his dick sucked at a house party by _another_ _boy_.

But _it is_ the first time he’s ever seen Steve Harrington from this angle and _hell,_ he’s stunned by the sight.

Billy can even admit to himself that he’s just... Not a good enough person to deserve something so obscenely precious. He’s a piece of shit, really. He probably was a piece of shit in his past life, too. He simply doesn’t get it, because Steve is baby blue against pink, miles of wintery, milky skin to contrast the many shades of red and dark denim corrupting him, _and_

And there’s something absolutely fucking beautiful and _pristine_ in the way he’s curling his soft hands around Billy’s thighs, looking up at him with those gigantic fucking eyes, searching.

Searching for _direction._

Initially, Billy hadn’t really intended to put him in this position —That’s absolute fucking bullshit, he went out of his _way_ to put him here— but he's got to admit, Steve had gone a little easier than he had expected, kneeling right next to Nancy’s bed with nothing but the press of Billy’s hand on his shoulder.

He still looks a little out of place, though. The crisp cotton of his striped polo shirt is too clean; the white of his sneakers is too fresh, the light gray of his socks is too new, like he owns a hundred pairs of those and disposes them after one use,

So two things are pretty clear to Billy right now,

One, _King Steve_ had no intentions of becoming someone’s little play thing tonight.

Two, Billy’s fucking glad that Tommy and Carol coerced him into coming to this dumb party.

\---

It’s roughly nine p.m. when Billy and his crew first break into the Wheeler’s and manage to spike all the punch bowls with the dirt-cheap booze they had sitting under their beds.

“No, you’re not listening. You _need_ to come and stop this— I told her it was a terribleidea, but she wouldn’t listen to me—” That lame Holland girl with the glasses screams over the phone in a failed attempt to overpower the cheering and the loud music. The ruffles of her stupid pink button-down blouse feathering around as her free hand moves up to cover her other ear in a presumably failed attempt of cancelling out the noise, “They brought alcohol; I think they brought _drugs_ too.”

Billy knows _exactly_ who she’s talking about. _I think they brought drugs too_ , that bitch. Not even fifteen minutes have gone by since he showed up and she’s already pulling shit out of her ass.

It’s not like she’s wrong, though. They sure as hell brought drugs.

“Oh, you just wait and see, Holland.” Billy mutters, mostly to himself. Carol must have heard him, though, if the way she just fucking _cackles_ , nudging Billy’s stomach and making a leery face is anything to go by.

“Barbara puts me to sleep. You think she’s calling the cops or something?” She snorts, her voice barely audible, “Barf me out.”

By nine thirty p.m. Billy’s got a countertop full of Nancy Wheeler yapping nonsense and taking hits from an apple pipe that she made herself, following Billy’s instructions, of course. He hovers over her at a dangerous distance, resting against the countertop with his blue eyes inspecting her actions, making sure that she’s properly inhaling the smoke before letting it out.

“There you go,” Billy drawls, low and sweet, “That’s how you do it.”

She laughs, blushes a little. That’s definitely the weed, though— Unlike her cougar mom, Nancy has always been immune to Billy’s charm. She doesn’t make a big production out of putting her hand on her chest like her mom does, doesn’t run her hands through the ends of her hair when she thinks he’s not looking.

Instead, she just claps short and fast like she just unlocked a new level in the game of badassery they’re playing and coughs with her red-rimmed eyes glinting silly under the dim lights. All the girls in Hawkins are monotonous and uninteresting even under the right light, that's for sure, but _Nancy_ — Nancy's a little different. She has a strong personality, soft features and huge blue eyes. Not the same kind of blue eyes as Billy. Hers are calm and gentle and Billy can definitely understand why Steve likes her the best.

And you can bet your ass Billy would like her the best, too, if only he weren’t so fucked up, so wrong in the head. Yeah, if only he were normal like other people— like Steve Harrington.

“Little miss perfect holds it in better than you, babe.” Carol sneers, makes Tommy look _so_ genuinely offended, it’s hilarious.

According to him, Billy’s shit that he brings from California is way too strong— Not easy to hold at all. And Billy just stands there with a shit-eating grin that is all nicotine and canines, chugging his last sips of beer when he sees _Harrington_ stomping around the corner, with his perfect hair and his pouty lips as per usual, looking upset.

Then, when he sees Billy still standing there, way too fucking close to Nancy, his expression changes. Shifts. It’s weird, like half his body is intimidated while the other is utterly furious, or maybe jealous.

Either way, he’s the human equivalent of an angry Labrador puppy right now, with his eyes trained on the scene in front of him, and that’s— That’s the fucking cherry on top, right?

“Steve!” Nancy squeals, jolly, oblivious to the fact that she’s jackhammering the pedestal Steve’s probably put her in as smoke billows out of her tiny nostrils and her thin lips.

He approaches her and, “ _Nance,_ what the hell?” He says, shaking his head in disbelief, his hands on his hips while he looks at her like maybe his eyes are lying to him. Like there's no way in hell this tiny girl in a pastel colored dress and brown hair neatly tucked into a thin ribbon is smoking weed. It’s pathetic, the whole thing. People are _so_ dumb when they fall in love.

“ _C’mon_ ,” She whines, slouching, and her words are slurred when she adds, “It’s _not_ a big deal.” Her eyes and nose are red and she’s trying to bite back a dopey giggle that inevitably makes Billy and Tommy exchange looks and laugh.

“ _Not a big deal?_ Don’t be ridiculous,” Barb scoffs, but takes a step back and hides behind Steve when she sees Billy stepping forward and shielding Nancy with his broad frame. Still, she summons the courage to elaborate. “The whole place is thrashed, and— and there’s people _doing it_ in the bathroom.” She almost whispers, red blooming on her cheeks after the sentence leaves her lips. Fucking prude.

Harrington and Holland are doing a damn good job at getting inside of Nancy’s head, though. They’re succeeding at making her feel guilty. She’s quickly starting to look like she’s sorry, with her pursed lips and her eyebrows knitting together, eyes dropping to stare blankly at the apple pipe on her lap. Like she’s suddenly starting to reevaluate every choice she’s made tonight.

Smoking weed. Not kicking Billy and his clique out when she had the chance. Hosting a party, the second her parents and her annoying twerp of a brother fucked off out of town. You name it.

Thing is that it’s barely a quarter to ten, and Billy’s not about to waste a Friday night like this. Sitting by the curb waiting for Tommy and Carol to stop sucking face while Nancy is crying all ugly, smearing her makeup on Steve’s chest in her parents' bedroom? Yeah, he’ll pass. That’s a big fucking no-no.

This party ain’t over.

So of course, Billy has to go and fuck their plan up, with the click of his tongue and a bitter, “As it _should_ be.” His shit-eating grin only getting wider by the minute. “That’s how you know a party’s good,” His blue eyes dart to Steve, “When someone is being roughed up in a bathroom.”

Billy doesn’t miss the way Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows, wishes there was no music and no shouting in the background so he could hear the _click_ of it when he swallows a second time in quick succession. A small eternity of silence passes before Steve is finally able to open his mouth again, to form a sentence.

“…You have five minutes to kick these assholes out, Nance.” Steve says, motioning at the three of them, hand gesture artificial looking, like he’s actively _trying_ to look like he’s got his shit together. Carol pouts comically, and Tommy clutches his heart with a pained expression. They didn’t notice it, the idiots.

Billy, on the other hand, “If you don’t, I’ll take care of it myself.”

Billy’s like a shark smelling blood, hungry for a challenge.

So when Steve turns on his heels and heads for the stairs, all Billy can do is follow. Like that’s all the fuel he really needs to get his engine going, Nancy’s alarmed face long forgotten behind him. She’s got her little friend rubbing her shoulder all nicey-nice, she’s going to be fine.

“ _Listen_ , Hargrove—”

“Watcha’ gonna do, Harrington?” Billy sneers, cutting Steve off, “Gonna call Hopper? _Jesus,_ even the chief of police is gonna be fucking glad that your little girlfriend is moving on.” He leans closer, “Or is she your _ex-girlfriend_ now?”

Steve makes a face like his chest stings. Billy knows he’s successfully struck something _._

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Steve says, determined. Pressing two fingers against Billy’s chest, so hard the flesh turns white under his touch. “You don’t deserve her; she’s _too_ good for you.”

Billy grins, like Steve has just complimented him or something. His blue eyes light up with sheer amusement, this guy is un-fucking-believable. “You think _I_ want _Nancy_?” He gestures at himself, cackles loudly, making a big production out of taking a sharp inhale, “Well, ain’t that some shit.”

Now Steve just looks confused. His eyes explore the entirety of Billy’s face, searching. The right corner of his mouth gives the briefest of twitches. Adorable little fucker. “You—You… _Don’t?_ ”

“I mean, she’s sweet and all. She’s pretty, too.” Billy begins explaining, looking towards the ceiling, “But no, she doesn’t tickle my fancy.”

Billy gives the guy a second. Just enough for him to process the information. Then, he’s stalking forward like a feline, shamelessly crowding Steve against a door.

“I…” Steve trails off, eyes a little wild, “Well, you—”

“Is _this_ the bathroom, by any chance?” Billy interrupts immediately, the guy would have to be really fucking stupid not to get it. And he _probably_ is— He’s probably so stupid he needs more _aggressive_ hints to understand.

Steve just keeps his lips sealed, eyes wide with equal parts terror and confusion. Billy can almost hear the gears turning under all that hair. _You’re almost there, big guy_ —Billy thinks, pressing against him. Steve doesn’t make an effort to move, to shove him away. Doesn’t budge. He simply puts his hand over the doorknob and juts his chin up defiantly, as if _that_ would stop Billy Hargrove from opening that door and shoving them both into a really bad idea.

It makes him want to laugh.

Billy’s left hand goes to rest right next to Steve’s head; the other is curled over the loop of his belt, ready. He’s deliberately studying every inch of Steve’s soft features, letting his breath ghost over Steve’s plump mouth. “You’re a real buzzkiller, aren’t you?” He continues, lips pulling at the corners, waiting for an answer.

An answer he never gets. Steve must have swallowed his own tongue by now, smelling like a good mix between whatever rich boy cologne he uses and fabric softener. Maybe even honey, if Billy inhales deep enough. He looks fresh out of the shower and his body emanates a kind of heat that Billy doubtlessly reads as both rage and arousal. Anticipation.

He’s trying to look angry, yeah, that’s for sure. The thing is that those big doe-eyes betray him,

 _‘eat me’_ , _‘take me’,_ they’re begging.

Or maybe Billy's just horny, maybe he's been lusting after Steve for a goddamn lifetime— Who the fuck cares?

It's Friday night, all the punch has been spiked and Nancy Wheeler knows how to make a pipe out of an apple. Anything's possible in fucking Hawkins, and even if it's a little fucked up, the look those eyes are giving him still fills Billy with the sudden and violent urge to crawl over Steve and fuck him raw for the fucking world to see.

So he leans even closer. “Thought _King Steve_ knew how to have fun.”

Everything in Nowhere, Indiana is dull and gray, and fucking _boring_ and he’s never stuck around someone or something long enough to form any kind of possessive feelings —or _any_ kind of feelings— ever since he stepped on this fucking shithole, but when Steve smirks, this annoyed pull of his lips that makes something in Billy’s gut _simmer_ — Billy can just tell that he’s fucking _different._

He’s a pretty boy in a town filled with cows. Billy has never been able to tell if he wants to take his throne or take his ass, so he might as well be the little selfish asshole that he is, kick that door open and take both.

So that’s exactly what he does.

Striped pastel pink walls, blue cushions, fluffy comforters, floral paintings, a teddy bear— It doesn’t take Billy too long to put two and two together; It’s Nancy’s bedroom. In Billy’s mind, it doesn’t get any better than that. He’s hit the jackpot.

He looks at Steve, like he knows he has won and well, Steve looks just like someone who knows he has lost.

“Yup,” He says, crossing his arms and taking a look around, like it’s been a while since he’s been here. “You’re fucking out of your mind.”

“And you’re a fucking idiot,” Billy’s left brow arches, gestures with his hand, “Now get on your knees, will you?” He commands, closing the door with the heel of his boot.

Steve snorts. Says “No.” without stutter, with a sense of finality that makes him look like a grown-up. Tiny lines form in between his eyebrows, like he's trying to look angry.

But, big surprise, he's _trembling._ He's fucking trembling, and there’s the very faint outline of a dick beginning to harden inside of his neatly-ironed khakis.

That’s when Billy knows that Steve can pretty much feel his dick halfway down his throat already, and being completely honest, if it were anyone else, Billy would probably be complying at this point, but this is _Steve,_ and Steve is _especial._

Steve's new and soft and a tad bit scared and Billy’s fucking _sick_ for it,

Because he _wants_ , and it’s pretty apparent that Steve _wants_ too, right?

That doesn’t make it selfish. It makes it _destiny._

“Wasn’t really a question.”

So Billy takes a few steps forward, undoing his belt unceremoniously, working his zipper down with that devious grin plastered on his face like the shameless bastard that he is, and Steve, well, Steve is reflexively stepping back. That, until his calves touch the side of Nancy’s bed. Then he just stays frozen in place, mouth agape at the sight of Billy with his zipper down, no underwear, his already hardened dick springing free with no warning.

And _shit,_ he can’t fucking _pry_ his ba’mbi eyes away. Billy counts that as a victory.

“See this?” Billy draws it up in one swift motion, “Could be _yours._ ”

"I don't _want_ it," Steve says, even as his eyes are still trained on the goddamn thing. Truly, he makes no sense. He swallows, “I— I don’t,”

He's trying to explain himself, Billy thinks— As if Billy needs any sort of justification, right now. If Steve really wanted to leave, he could just fucking _leave_. Billy wouldn't stop him. But he's decidedly not leaving, instead he's just tripping over his tongue like a moron, and Billy's got no time for that.

“You’ll learn,” he tells him, stroking himself eagerly as he gets closer, “Or you’ll gag,” He sneers meanly, “Either way, get on your knees and open that pretty mouth, yeah?” He puts his free hand on Steve’s right shoulder,

And _God,_

Steve just _stares_ with those big fucking eyes of his, chews on his bottom lip,

But he finally, hesitantly, inhales deeply and plops down in front of Billy.

“Forget about Wheeler,” Billy says, tilting his chin up with his fingers, “After being such a sucky boyfriend the least you can do is let the girl have her fun, man.”

“Shut _up.”_ Steve barks, because you know, that’s a dangerous line to throw around in this situation, really. It’s pretty obvious that Steve has a lot of Nancy issues, deep and painful— Billy’s heard all the gossip going around the halls of Hawkins High, and he naturally wants to put his fingerprints all over it too.

So he laughs, cups Steve’s face with one hand, yanks the boy’s chestnut hair with the other and with no warning, he slowly eases the guy down on his dick, inch by inch, until he’s hitting the back of his throat. Steve’s breath hitches, his gag reflex starts kicking in and _fuck,_ even that feels good, somehow.

“This better be good, _King Steve_.” He drawls, mockingly, “You have a reputation to uphold. Don’t give me any reasons to think you’re not worthy of your little crown.”

Billy knows that Steve is a persistent little fuck. He's seen plenty of it on the court, when Steve takes possession of the ball even after he's been shoved and pushed and tackled to the floor numerous times— He's seen it during lunch time, too, when Steve sits on the same table as his girlfriend and the guy she's most definitely fucking, plays nice and puts a green apple on Jonathan's tray

Billy knows that most of the things Steve does are fueled by insecurity and the need to prove that he’s worthy, that he's good, that he's fucking _King Steve_ for a reason.

So it's really not a surprise, when Steve pushes down without needing to be told twice, and his bushy eyebrows furrow in discouragement almost immediately. Like he's beating himself mentally for failing to deep throat on his very first excursion into dick sucking. Billy can almost hear him calling himself a _loser._

Billy pulls Steve away by the hair and clicks his tongue in disapproval. “No, no. You choke when _I_ choke you.” He lets his fingers gently scrape on his scalp, “This isn’t about you, at all.”

And that’s absolute bullshit, honestly.

Because if it wasn’t about Steve, Billy would have both hands in the guy’s hair already; guiding him to a rhythm he’d struggle to follow. He wouldn’t be easing himself inside Steve’s pretty mouth all nicey-nice like this, slowly dragging the bottom of his dick along that soft, plaint tongue.

If it wasn’t about Steve, he wouldn’t be biting his lip to restrain himself from going apeshit, fucking into that mouth so hard both of them are sore by the end of it.

Steve doesn’t need to know that, though. Because Billy is _absolutely_ in control here.

“I don’t wanna—”

Billy has to laugh at Steve’s words before he can even get to finish his sentence. He has to laugh at the absurdity of him with his pink lips covered in bitter spit, with his knees buried in Nancy’s quilted floor, surrounded by blue cushions and pink walls and floral pictures and a goddamn _teddy bear_ , a painful-looking bulge _begging_ in between his legs.

“C’mon, pretty boy. It’s not _that_ hard,” Billy urges, gripping on Steve’s chin so hard it’s almost bruising. Steve settles again, shifting back to rest more weight on his calves, “Is _King Steve_ not capable of doing something that chicks do, like, all the time?”

With that, he presses his dick in a little deeper, reveling in the wild, lightning-bolt pleasure that eats him up when Steve actually _lets him_ , offering a wet tongue and an open mouth. It’s not the best blow job he’s ever had, but the experience is unlike anything else.

Because it’s Steve Harrington.

And he’s there, with his lush lips and heat in his eyes and single-track minded determination, his head slowly bobbing up and down. It’s going to feel so good, Billy thinks— It’s going to feel _so goddamn good_ to send the boy back to his girlfriend dripping with spunk from every hole. He shudders, his fingers still tangled on Steve’s hair, but the grip is gentle enough to let him shift, to let him lower himself down another inch, take it so pretty, so uncertain. Billy touches Steve’s cheekbone, his jaw, and when he speaks he does it quietly as not to break Steve’s concentration.

“You were pissed that your girl— _Ex-girlfriend_ was smoking weed downstairs and look at you now,” Steve looks up at Billy with wild, glassy eyes, “What do you think she’d say? You think she’d be pissed?”

But those are rhetorical questions, and the stare Billy shoots him afterwards means _don’t stop._

Steve doesn’t stop— If _anything_ , he just seals his lips over Billy, sucks enough to make his knees shake, lets his pale hands slide up Billy's thighs softly. “Oh, _fuck—_ She’d probably think you’re doing a good job, wouldn’t she?” And he can feel Steve tense, feel the coil of his body wind at the words, but Billy doesn’t let him voice an opinion, doesn’t let him make his ire known. He fucks Steve’s mouth, holds the back of his head for a second there, giving him no room to move and when he finally lets go, Steve pulls off completely with pink cheeks and a spit-soaked gasp.

Billy pumps his dick with a very light hand, laughing. “You done already? I expected a little more from _King_ —”

And just like Billy knew he would, Steve swallows him down again, the edge of his teeth nipping at Billy's hand when he doesn’t move his fingers away fast enough. He chokes himself, and Billy pulls his hair, hard and twisting, easing him down slowly, tipping his head just enough for Billy to bump along the back of his throat.

“That’s _better,_ ” Billy sneers, knows that Steve has the gist of it when he sets a sloppy, amateur rhythm. Steve shudders, tongue fluttering where it’s dragging along the underside of Billy’s dick and that's just, _holy fucking shit_ — “ _Fuck_ , pretty boy. Wish Wheeler could see you like this.”

And the sound Steve makes is like a grunt, a very annoyed, slightly frustrated one.

“What?” Billy taunts, hisses, gives Steve a soft slap in the cheek, “Don’t want me to talk about her while you’re sucking me dry in her bedroom?” Billy belly laughs, “Don’t want me to tell you how much I want to come all over you? How much I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, use it so good you’ll never gag again?” Oh my fucking God, but what if Steve actually let him? _Steve might actually let him._

Given the sound Steve makes, he just fucking _might_. It vibrates through him like thunder and settles directly in Billy’s balls.

Billy’s hips rut forward with a hissed, “Should have put you on your knees sooner,” And the tip of his tongue is touching the edge of his teeth. He takes Steve’s hand from where it is resting on his thigh and wraps it around the base of his dick just how he likes it. “God, _Harrington_ — I’m gonna fucking _ruin_ you,”

Steve surges forward, nose bumping against the coarse blond hairs covering Billy’s pelvic bone, and he can fucking—

He can fucking _feel_ the flutter of Steve’s throat when he chokes.

Billy pants, yanking Steve off his goddamn dick and Steve _fights him_ a little, he pulls against Billy’s grip and _holy shit,_ that’s a thing that's actually happening right now. “What did I say?”

“Fucking _let me_ ,” He grits his teeth, turning his head just so as Billy drags his dick across the curve of his jaw, smearing spit and pre all over the soft skin, “Let me choke.”

But Billy’s not going to let him, no matter how badly Steve is legitimately gagging for it, the little slut. Instead, he says, very sweetly, tapping the spit-sticky head of his dick against Steve’s cheek, “Won’t happen. Love how much you want it, though.”

“I do,” Steve insists, and it’s a nice fucking contrast to the angry _I don’t_ he had spat just a few minutes ago. He snarls a little when Billy drags his dick across his mouth even as he speaks, pulling away just before Steve can have him. “Billy, fucking _let me.”_

“No.” Billy says, imperiously. He takes his dick off and away from Steve’s precocious mouth and smiles down at him. “Sit back, open your mouth and hold very still. Anything else, it’s fucking over.” And it’s _mean,_ harsh like a sunrise hangover back in California. It kinda makes him want to say sorry, but he’s not sorry. Not really. Not when Steve’s looking at him like that.

Wordlessly, Steve opens his little wet mouth again. 

_Oh God._

Billy fucks against Steve’s tongue, a hand curled loosely around the base of his dick and Billy just fucking loves it, fucking _rides_ it for a long time, because he’s gotten real good at drawing it out, drags it on and on _and on_ until Steve’s making these hurt little noises, sweaty palms pressed flat against his khakis, fighting the urge to lean into it, to do more. His jaw trembles and his tongue’s gone soft and Billy could come like this, he _really_ could,

But he pulls Steve away again. doesn't know if that soft, gusty little whimper came from Steve's mouth or his own. He urges Steve up, getting a little distracted by the puffy, pink, swollen line of his mouth. He’s right here in front of him, he could really kiss him right now. Taste himself on that pretty mouth.

But no, he can’t. That’s not a thing he’s ready for— Doesn’t know how much kissing Steve fucking Harrington could actually fuck him up, doesn’t wanna find out.

And anyways, Steve’s standing there just swallowing, wincing a little at the ache in his jaw. “I— _Fuck_ , I—I”

 _Fuck_. Billy would kill to kiss the stutter off that mouth. But then it occurs to him that he could _spread him out_ in this fucking pink room, full of cushions and floral paintings and a goddamn teddy bear.

So instead, he goes, “Not done with you yet, pretty boy.” and puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, turning him around, pressing the guy’s back flush against his own chest. “I’m sure you’ll do better next time.”

“There’ll be no next time, asshole.” Steve huffs, sounding a little breathless, and the roots of his hair are damp with sweat.

“Yeah, I dunno about that.” Billy tugs diligently at the collar of Steve’s stupid polo shirt, exposing as much of him as possible. His gaze is raking over the soft, pale skin dusted with little moles and when he hums in appreciation, he can feel Steve’s stomach going taut.

Billy is more than delighted to know that he gets to provoke such strong emotions on Steve, the perfect mixture between outrage and desire— He likes knowing that Steve’s having such a hard time trying to control himself that even his breathing sounds artificial and calculated. He likes knowing that he makes Steve’s blood boil and travel down, down, _down_ ,

“I— I _don’t_ think—”

“Good,” Billy’s wet breath ghosts over Steve’s neck as he leans closer, sucking a mean looking hickey into the curve of his shoulder. “Don’t.”

Steve squirms a little as Billy continues to chase new skin with harsh bites and soothing drags of his tongue. It seems like the boy can barely bring himself to fucking focus by now, but then Billy’s grinding his spit-soaked erection against his ass, leaving wet streaks all across the back of Steve’s khakis as he goes, his free hand traveling down to cup his aching bulge, and god fucking _damnit,_ Steve gasps _so_ hard.

Billy fucking _chuckles,_ mean, fucking _obscene._

“You’re _so_ fucking pretty.” And then he drags his mouth up Steve’s neck and _licks across his cheek_ , thinking that Steve might find that to be absolutely fucking gross but experiencing some mild whiplash when the boy thoughtlessly bucks up against Billy’s hand and, like.

Yeah. This is definitely another small victory in Billy’s book.

“Let me see you, yeah? Let me see that pretty body of yours.”

Steve’s fucking quivering at this point, a dewy layer of sweat building up all over his body— Probably wishing the police would just break in and make everybody leave so he never has to admit that he has a hard-on for the guy that has been his own personal nightmare ever since he entered the picture.

“Gotta give me something if you want me to go on.” Billy insists.

“I don’t— I mean…” Steve swallows, “I, uh.” _Jesus Christ._ “Just this once, never— Never again.” He manages, turns just in time to see Billy’s wicked grin, one hand pawing at his dick while the other stretches the collar of his stupid shirt beyond repair, “ _Never again,_ Hargrove.”

“Sure, pretty boy. Never again, whatever.” Billy retorts, not buying this huge gaping lie that Steve, with his hard dick and his stupid khakis, is spitting out. Like it is somehow set on stone or something. Fucking idiot. Billy promised he’d ruin him and that’s exactly what he’ll do.

He’s going to ruin him for everyone else. For life.

Soon big hands are expertly working all of Steve’s buttons and zippers down. When Steve’s pants are pooling around his ankles, Billy pushes him against Nancy’s mattress, flat on his stomach. Watches with satisfaction as the boy shifts awkwardly, resting his weight on his knees and elbows. Inviting.

Billy’s bottom lip is captive between his lips, trying to keep the drool from pouring out as he hooks his fingers around the waistband of Steve’s underwear, slowly, like he’s unwrapping a present on a Christmas morning, taking his s _weet_ goddamn time.

“God, look at _this_ ,” Billy hisses and then whistles low, sliding the underwear down until it sits mid-thigh on the guy, letting the elastic snap back against his skin so hard it makes Steve shudder, makes his hard-on _kick_ , makes his face go so red it might just melt.

Holy fucking goddamn _god_ , Billy’s _so fucking glad_ that he came to this stupid party— Steve Harrington’s actually _trembling_ under his touch and his examining gaze, and soon all of his appreciative purrs and hums turn into a chuckle, a dangerous-sounding one.

He runs his hands over the curves of Steve’s ass, grabbing fistfuls of it, letting his nails sink into the flesh, awed at those red markings as they bloom on his pale skin. When his eyes travel to Steve’s flushed face, he sees him with his cheek planted against Nancy’s quilted comforter, eyebrows furrowed and big brown eyes trained on the teddy bear that lays flat against the headboard.

“Did you give that to her?” Billy asks, pushing. Stepping on a mine field.

“Nah.” He immediately retorts back, sounding just this side of uninterested.

“Am I putting a finger in the wound?” Billy smacks his ass, laughs when the boy squirms, "What's up with the goddamn teddy bear? Tell me." 

Steve huffs, goes silent. Then, after a few seconds of contemplation, he says. “Doesn’t matter.”

Unluckily for Steve, Billy is great at pushing.

He touches Steve, but pointedly ignores his dick. Spreads his ass-cheeks, makes him gasp, but makes a big production out of dismissing his little pucker. Instead, he keeps making mean remarks and laughing _at_ Steve until he caves, appropriately red-faced and pissed.

Until he spills the beans.

It turns out, Steve liked to use the goddamn bear as a marionette to make Nancy laugh and feel better whenever she was upset. Like a god boyfriend, like a— Like a King turned _bitch_. Billy's pretty sure that Steve can feel the stupid stuffed animal staring back at him. _Bad Steve. Don’t do this to miss Nancy._

Jesus fucking Christ. This is gold, this is _fucking_ —

"Just fucking drop it."

Billy lifts his hand up again, lands it hard on Steve’s left butt cheek, making all of the teasing border on _too much_.

“What should I do to you then, pretty boy?”

He is spreading Steve open again, exposing him under the warm lights coming from Nancy’s table lamps. It’s indecent, fucking _degrading_ , the way Billy is taking his dignity away, or maybe Steve’s handing it over himself? _Hell,_ that’s even _better_. The thought makes Billy’s dick twitch where it’s been left unattended, just hanging out of his pants.

“Should I do this?” Billy gathers up all the fluids he can find in his smoke-scented mouth and spits on Steve’s rim, mean and loud, sticky thumb diligently working painful, slow circles right over it. Steve squirms, arches his back in a way that looks a little too suggestive, a little too hot, buries his face against Nancy’s bed, “Is that good? Or should I—”

Steve whines, “I— I fucking _hate_ you,”

Billy cackles. “No fucking shit.” his words muffled against Steve's flesh as he kneels down, mouths and nips at Steve’s ass, leaving an entire row of teeth marked on the soft skin. “Why don’t you tell me more about it?”

Steve barks something, or at least he _tries_ to— But then Billy’s tongue, so often lewdly hanging out of his mouth, slides into the crevice between his hands, licking a slow, broad strip from the underside of Steve’s balls, to his rim.

“ _Fuuuuck_ ,” Steve’s entire body betrays him when it shudders, the little sound that escapes his lips with no warning is high-pitched and choked and fucking _pornographic_ and he’s, well, practically bucking his hips back against Billy’s mouth. “Fuck you, fuck _you_ —”

Bratty fucking slut. Billy would love to say it out aloud, but he’s enjoying the tight pucker under his tongue far too much— The way Steve tastes so clean, the way Billy knows he’s biting his lip and failing badly at containing his whimpers. Just _beautiful_.

But then the guy has to go and fuck it up. Billy is having a _moment,_ and Steve has to fucking ruin it.

“Is that _all_ you got?” Steve manages, then chuckles, then moans, “You corner me here and _that’s_ all you can do?”

Billy comes up for air, his fingernails digging into Steve’s pale flesh, “You better shut your whore mouth, Harrington—”

“Or what?” Steve lifts his head and looks back from the corner of his eye, “Let me guess, you’re gonna shut it for me? _Sure_ , asshole. Like some spanking is gonna shut me up.”

Billy’s mouth twitches. Here he is, eating out the boy he has been lusting after for months now, and turns out, although it isn’t really that shocking, that he’s the absolute fucking worst. When did he get so confident anyways?

Billy spots Nancy’s teddy bear and takes a moment to admit that he’s a fucking genius. Struck by inspiration for the third time tonight. He snatches it and leans over Steve just enough to reach where his head is resting, “Eat it, Harrington.”

He shoves in as much of the stuffed animal as Steve’s mouth can take before he can say anything else. His muffled frustration is downright melodic at this point, the glare in his big eyes even more gorgeous than usual.

“Much better.” Billy says before continuing to chase those little mortified, muffled sounds, getting them to intensify by repeating that same actions over and over, until he feels Steve’s thighs shake like they’re about to give in, until Steve lets out a desperate, weak little sob. Until he fists a hand and smacks at the mattress.

It’s like Billy has won the fucking lottery. The big, fat, _luscious_ price. Billy laughs, and the vibrations must do something to the honey-eyed boy, because he straight up _mewls_ , feisty, pushing back against the filthy tongue that is soon turning pointy, sliding into him, dipping in further, stroking his insides, sucking, _slurping_ , it’s—

It’s a lot.

Billy can hardly think with his entire body tensed up like this, a jolt of pleasure coursing through his spine. Almost like he’s on the receiving end right now.

Because it’s _Steve,_ for fuck’s sake, and he is red-faced and sobbing around a mouthful of Nancy’s teddy bear— Shaking, with his polo shirt shucked all the way up to his chest and,

It only takes one or two more licks and it’s over. Steve’s pucker is clenching around Billy’s tongue and then he’s panting, both his breath and his liquid arousal coming out in short, angry spurts as his thighs tremble.

What the fuck. _What the fuck._

“ _Fuck_ , did you just—" Billy says as he pulls away, still gripping on Steve’s ass, “Jesus, you _did_ , you _—_ Gross little shit,” And Steve is honestly a sight to behold. He looks dazed, spent, heavy lids fluttering shut, but he still looks pissed off. “Look at _this_ , you came all over her sheets.”

Steve throws the spit-soaked teddy bear away, affronted, and it thuds against Nancy’s white hope chest. Then he goes, “You’re a fucking _freak—_ ”

“You just came just from my tongue,” Billy sneers, rolling his eyes, “Gimme a fucking break, princess.”

“And don’t call me _that_ ,” Steve grunts in annoyance, cheeks flushed red. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Billy laughs and lifts his hands up, feigning innocence, “Prissy little slut,” He amends, shooting Steve a playful death glare, “My apologies. Now shut up and lay on your back.”

Steve turns his head as much as he can, his eyes narrow and outraged. “… _No way_.”

“Don’t make me ask twice.” Billy’s tongue pokes out right in between his teeth.

“ _No way_.” Steve repeats, and he probably thinks he’s scowling but it certainly looks more like a pout, a bratty one. It’s almost as if he’s pushing Billy’s buttons on purpose just to see how far he can go. And being completely fucking honest, after seeing how pretty Steve looks when he’s turned on, after hearing the sounds the guy makes when he’s coming,

It takes a lot of self-control for Billy not to just break him at the seams and leave him here for Nancy to put back together.

“You wanna be a whiny bitch? I’ll give you a reason or two.” And with that, he grips on both of Steve’s thighs, not only forcing him to turn around and lay flat on his back, but also tugging him closer to the edge of the bed, all in one swift motion.

Steve doesn’t get his way, not with Billy. Not at the court, not at school, not in bed.

Billy hopes he knows now, with his back lying on his own still-warm wet patch, with Billy’s broad frame looming over him, settling in between his thighs for better access, “You were saying?”

It’s fucking hot. Steve’s got drool trickling down his chin, he’s got sweaty dark brown hair and huge brown eyes that won’t stop _staring,_ darting from Billy’s eyes to his parted lips to his bronzy shoulders covered in freckles when they surface over the crimson horizon of the shirt he’s taking off, like maybe he’s seeing God or something. Mesmerized.

Like maybe he wants to _touch,_ but is scared that Billy will bat his hand away. Billy gets it.

So he grabs Steve’s wrist next, slowly dragging Steve's sweaty, unsure hand down his sculpted torso, from one of his pecs to his taut abdomen, letting Steve’s slender fingers graze over the skin. Letting his nails scrape at the coarse hair covering his lower half.

He grins triumphantly and his tongue pokes the side of his cheek when Steve breath hitches. “Like what you see?”

Steve rolls his eyes pretending to be annoyed, but he nods all the same, because, like. Of course he likes what he’s seeing, _who fucking wouldn’t._

Soon enough Billy’s doing the same thing with his free hand, running his fingers across Steve’s chest, thumbing his pouty mouth open, and it’s deceptively sweet and gentle, maybe too gentle, the way he turns Steve’s head to the left. Then to the right. And then back to the left in a rough attempt of memorizing his face, and Steve just _lets_ him, with his cheeks burning red and a layer of spit on his chin and his thighs wide open, his pink dick standing out against his pale skin, beginning to harden again.

“Shit, you _are_ stupid pretty.”

Steve swats Billy’s hand away, smiling, looking like a playful kitten.

“You already got me naked in bed, no need for all this sweet talk of yours.” He states, crossing his arms over his naked chest. “So, what if someone comes?” He questions, arching his eyebrows.

“Who’s gonna come?” Billy asks with a smug expression and a hand kneading Steve’s thigh. “You?”

“ _C’mon,”_

Billy sighs, and there’s an undertone of exasperation to his words when he adds, “Who the fuck is gonna come, Harrington? They’re all busy downstairs. Chances are they’ve forgotten you’re here.”

Steve looks like he wants to protest, wants to let Billy know just how _wrong_ he is.

But he can’t. Because he’s been gone for what feels like a good hour now and no one seems to be looking for him, not even after he made a scene and threatened to end the party.

“So we’ve reverted back to surnames now, huh? Five seconds ago I was pretty, now I’m _Harrington_ again.” Steve blurts out of nowhere, sounding breathless, “I’m not sure about this whole thing.”

And boy, does that make the energy in the room change. This is like that post-blowjob urge to kiss Steve situation all over again. Billy’s has let too much of himself show, fagging around and calling Steve _pretty_ every five seconds— Now the guy is using it against him. Not as dense as Billy originally thought, heh.

“You look pretty sure _to me.”_ Billy counters, his hand moving up to firmly grabs Steve’s dick. He yelps, his dick giving a hard kick at the touch, a bead of milky arousal forming right at the top. Billy snorts— This guy’s resistance is practically hanging by a thread. “Wanna know what I think? I think you’re a lying little whore. Saying you’re not sure about this when you’re hard,” Billy sneers meanly, but his voice is husky and low with want, “Hard _again_. Didn’t I make you come already?”

He squeezes the sensitive head and Steve pants, whines, loud and needy, when a wave of sheer white pleasure showers his entire body. It’s a beautiful thing to see, really. Billy does it again, pulling moan after moan from the desperate boy and then he rubs his thumb all over his tip, smearing pre all over it.

Billy clicks his tongue. “It’s a damn shame, pretty boy. No one’s been taking good care of you.”

“I’ve never,” Steve swallows, “I’ve— I’ve never done this with a guy.”

“Looks like it’s a night of firsts, then.” Billy muses, “I already used that pretty mouth of yours real good. Might as well just let me go all the way, right?” He smiles, all fake saccharine, “I’m not about to let you drive back home packing all that heat.”

Billy winks, gazes at Steve who’s just lying there, visibly flustered but still somehow deep in thought. He’s probably thinking about self-respect and autonomy— Thinking about all the dull, normal sex he’s had with Nancy on this same bed. Missionary sex, no foreplay whatsoever, no going down on each other— No slapping, no spanking, no spitting, no putting Steve on his hands and knees like a fucking dog.

_Boring._

“Just this once.” He whispers, bringing Billy out of his gay thoughts. He takes his time to process what’s going on here, to assess the situation. Good ole small-town boy Steve Harrington is about to let Billy fuck him in the ass. In his ex-girlfriend’s bedroom— In her _bed_.

Whether he’s doing it because he actually wants Billy or just out of pure desire to get back at Nancy, this is still a one-in-a-lifetime type of deal, and Billy would be _dumb_ not to take advantage of it. He’d be dumb not to do what he does next.

His blue eyes zero on Steve’s lips and a few moments later he’s sealing lips with him in a warm, sloppy kiss. It tastes like beer and weed. The taste of Billy lingering on Steve’s mouth; the taste of Steve lingering on Billy’s. It tastes anticipation and lust.

It tastes like drunken teenagers slurring the words to an AC/DC song and a goddamn teddy bear and when Billy pulls away,

Steve sounds a little disappointed when says, “Never again.” Like maybe if he says it over and over again it’ll be true, you know. Like, the fucking _universe_ working in mysterious ways and all that crap.

Billy rolls his eyes, doesn’t have the energy to deal with the turmoil of feelings inside of him. This emotional shit is getting old. “Hold yourself open.”

Steve huffs a little, but eventually he does as he’s told, because this is a one-in-a-lifetime type of deal, so fuck Nancy’s teddy bear and its lectures about indecency.

Billy watches him as his eyes go impossibly wide, tracking the long glob of dense, warm spit as it travels painfully slow from Billy’s lips to his entrance.

“God, you really are _fucking_ gross.” He whines for what feels like the hundredth time, with narrow eyes and pouty lips. All he gets is Billy grinning at him, wiping his lips with his left hand. The same hand he then uses to stroke his still hard, still veiny erection.

The head of his dick is pressing against Steve’s pucker a few moments later, tracing small, _slow_ circles; making Steve’s rim involuntarily wink around _nothing_ at all.

“Of course it would take _that_ to shut you up.” Billy sneers, then gives a tentative little push.

He’s not trying to conceal the fact that he’s really eager, right now. But more than that, there’s really no time for preparation when you’re fucking raw with another guy at a house party, while your classmates are having fun and dancing just a plywood door away.

Billy’s dick squeezes past Steve’s tight ring of muscle, and the boy’s over-sensitized body immediately stiffens. Steve chews on his lip, eyelashes fluttering. Billy can't decide if he wants to watch _that_ or if he wants to train his eyes on the point where their bodies meet. “Relax, _princess._ I know you can take it.”

"You're an asshole." Steve mutters. Billy's hands slide under Steve’s ass, angling him up a little so Steve’s entrance is canted up against his crotch.

He’s also leaning forward and now his breath is ghosting over Steve’s pretty face, their eyes locked when he says, “Keep your thighs nice and open, yeah?”

All Steve does is nod and follow the instructions he’s given, keeping his legs apart and doing his best to resist Billy’s weight on him. Billy has promised to make him feel good, and he figures that the little sample he’d given the guy before is too tempting to just go and disobey.

Steve’s damp strands of hair stick to his forehead and his cheeks seem to get redder and redder, as Billy works himself into him one slow inch at a time, sweat, spit and pre easing the way.

It feels amazing. Unlike anything else Billy has ever felt. Steve’s hot and pulsing and slick and fucking perfect, and he’s _tight_ , so goddamn _tight_ —

“You’re doing fucking good,” Billy hisses, under his breath, and Steve, in true Steve-fashion smirks, baleful and proud. Spent. The most beautiful thing Billy's ever seen. “So good, pretty boy.”

Billy’s dick is being squeezed to the point of aching, so it occurs to him that _maybe_ he should be nice to Steve at least once and still for a minute there, so the boy can properly adjust to the intrusion before he fully dives in, but then—

Then Steve is slowly rocking against Billy, grinding gingerly, and the rolls his hips give are short and shallow, but he’s still shamelessly coaxing gasps and whimpers out of his own mouth. Billy’s canines are for sure showing at the little show Steve is giving him, but he withholds himself, meanly; makes Steve rut and pant in vain as he stays in place like he’s made of steel.

A few more seconds of useless grinding, and Steve’s just gapes at him, eyes wide with incredulity. “Are you gonna… _Fuck me_? Or like, am I gonna haveto fuck myself?”

Wasn’t he oh-so-scared of taking Billy’s dick about five minutes ago? Billy’s eyebrows arch a little, his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. “ _Goddamn_ , look at you. Such a—”

“ _Such a needy little slut_ ,” Steve interrupts, successfully mocking Billy’s tone. “Yeah, whatever. _Move?”_

_This is a thing that is happening._

“Fucking brat.” Billy mutters and starts grinding his lips slowly, dragging his dick out of Steve just the tiniest bit each time before pushing back in.

Steve squirms under him, panting with arousal. Billy knows it feels _good_ — he's also acutely aware that it's just not enough.

“That's right,” Billy exhales, grinding a little harder but still not enough to give Steve any sort of relief. “Gonna feel what it's like to have exactly what you want just outta your reach.”

Steve only becomes more restless as time goes on, his hands absent-mindedly rubbing against the tops of his thighs and he’s looking at Billy with what looks like a good mix between annoyance and desperation.

“ _Jesus,_ Billy, don’t be fucking mean!” Steve bitches, feverish and desperate for more of that burning friction that Billy just won’t provide.

“Why is it so hard for privileged fucks like you to ask _nicely_ for the things they want?”

Steve's breath catches. He looks up at Billy like a kicked puppy. He winces as he props himself on his elbows, opens and closes his mouth several times, looking away as if looking directly at Billy’s eyes would be admitting some sort of defeat.

And then, there it is.

“Please?” He almost whispers, “ _Please_ fuck me.”

“What was that?”

“Please, please, _please_ —” he practically sobs, “Fuck me, Billy— I’m— This is—”

Billy finds himself wanting to grin, but suppresses it for the time being. He doesn’t want Steve to think he is mocking him when he’s finally trying to be good.

Instead, he bottoms out in one ruthless motion, hips flush with Steve’s ass. Steve gives a loud whine, his tightness clenching around Billy and his back arching off the bed, perhaps a little overwhelmed by the strain of feeling so _full_ so suddenly.

“Better, princess?” Billy sneers, because he’s as mean as Steve is stubborn, and all Steve can do is frantically nod with his eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip captive in between his teeth. Apparently, he's too far gone to grimace at the nickname.

Billy picks his pace, steady and brutal. He’s been trying to contain himself all night but _now,_

Now he _really_ feels like crossing the line from mean to _cruel_.

He thrusts and thrusts and _thrusts_ , deep and unhinged and fucking gross, his one-track mind determined to make this bratty prep drip in sweat and tears and spit and every other fluid under the sun, strip him from his dignity, slip his rational mind into a coma—

So he curls a big hand around Steve’s pale neck, closes it tight, his tongue thoughtlessly touching the edge of his teeth as he sees the other boy’s face absolutely flushed, his skin red-bitten, his eyebrows knitted together, his lips wet and twisted into a wicked grin as he _rambles_ ,

“That’s so good, Billy, I— _That’s_ —”

And,

“Shit, _Billy—_ God, yes— _Fuck me_ ,”

And,

“This is just what I wanted, for you to fuck me like you _—_ ”

‘ _Like you mean it?’, ‘Like you hate me?’_

Billy will never know, because next thing he knows he’s hitting that sweet bundle of nerves. Yeah, you guessed right. And Steve’s body quakes so violently it startles the both of them for a hot minute.

Steve’s shaking and gripping Billy’s arms for dear life, eyes getting wet around the edges. “Shit, do that again,” He looks at Billy, knowing exactly what he wants. “ _Please,_ c’mon!”

And, well, Billy’s mesmerized, fucking _awed_. “It’s okay, pretty boy, you don’t have to cry about it.”

With that he hardens his thrusting; hand still around Steve’s throat and gripping tightly. Steve’s hole twitches around him, signaling just how close he is to coming right here in Nancy’s bed, and it’s indecent, so fucking _thrilling_ — All the friction and the squeezing are more than enough for Billy’s pleasure to start welling up into the pit of his taut stomach, each pulse of his dick making his head swim even deeper.

Sweat is beading on his forehead, hair soaked and sticking to his neck. He’s _grunting_ with every thrust, his vision blurry around the edges, and yet his target is clear in his sight—

Steve’s face twisted beautifully. That, and his chestnut brown hair shining under Nancy’s dim lights, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

Steve’s fingernails dig into Billy’s shoulders. The boy’s pleasure pulsing into every inch of his body is making Billy teeter on the edge— Looking at his slit as it leaks and drips lightly onto Steve’s stomach. It is almost out of Billy’s control at that point, the sight of Steve cursing under his breath and gritting out each word more desperately every time, making him feel like maybe he’s experiencing some sort of too vivid wet dream.

His rationality is forced to come forth for a few seconds, though, when Steve's voice makes him look down and he's throwing Billy this nervous glance. “Don’t you _dare_ come in me—”

Billy’s grunts, irked, “ _For fuck’s sake_ , why not?”

“’Cause it’s gross—” Steve clears his throat, “Just— Just _don’t,_ ”

“ _Fine_ —” Billy huffs, but his mouth is curled into a mean little open-mouthed grin. He isn’t really listening.

He can tell that Steve is preparing himself to blurt out his next ‘ _please_ ’ when Billy curls a hand around his rock-hard erection and strokes up and down, following the same pace as his instinctual rutting and _holy fucking shit,_

That’s _a lot._

With no warning, Steve’s dick spills his orgasm hot and powerful into Billy’s hand. He moans loudly into the air, he even manages to cancel out the cheering and the loud music outside, the lasciviousness becoming far too much for Billy to contain himself anymore.

Billy’s orgasm hits him so hard that it knocks the breath out of his lungs for a hot minute, and it keeps going and going, waves of sheer pleasure coursing through him as his hand leaps and cups Steve’s face, pulling him into a kiss that is all groans and whimpers and tongue, until Steve bites _hard_ into Billy’s bottom lip and mumbles against his mouth. “Told you not to _come_ in me.”

Billy can’t wipe the grin off his face, even as he gasps for breath and waits for his head to stop spinning. “Should have asked nicely.”

"Asshole." Steve whispers, spent. Limbs gone slack, absolutely fucked out. Used. Used _real_ good.

Eventually, Billy finds the energy to slip out of Steve. But before the guy can protest and whine about how disgusting it feels to have hot spunk trickling out of him, there are two of Billy’s fingers scooping it and pushing it all back inside, buried into his puffy rim knuckles-deep as if trying to keep it from spilling out.

“You can shove that _‘Just this once’_ crap up your ass, Stevie boy.” Billy states, almost a warning. “Sooner or later you’ll find that your dull girlfriend just won’t cut it anymore. When you finally decide to pull your head out of your ass and realize she’s not into you anymore.” He leans closer, wet lips right against Steve’s ear. “You know where to look for me.”

Steve just groans, seemingly unable to find the energy to speak or act like a fully-functioning human being. It’s fine, Billy doesn’t need him to speak right now— He knows Steve will think about his words later, when he’s all alone in his bed.

Billy can wait. He can totally wait.

The doorknob twirls and the door opens, the music and cheering from outside invading every corner of Nancy’s room.

It’s fucking Barb, absolutely frozen in place.

Her eyes narrow, and it looks like it takes a while for her to register what’s going on, but once she’s able to do so she _gasps_ audibly and brings a hand to her mouth; her eyes big like balloons and her eyebrows so far up her forehead they might as well just jump out of her face.

Steve turns away from her so fast that his neck cracks, giving her a full view of his messy, sweaty chestnut hair. It’s a little too late, though, because not only has she managed to see his face already, she’s also getting a full display of his thighs all spread and his dick going soft. Not to mention the two fingers that are currently inside of him.

Why didn’t they think of locking that goddamn door?

“Get lost, Holland.” Billy snarls, absolutely unphased by her presence. “We’re kinda busy here.”

Barb’s mouth opens like she wants to say something, but all she can manage to do is step back, frantically grasping for the doorknob until she finally manages to grab it, closing the door with a loud thud.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Steve whines, flinging both of his arms over his face. “My life _—_ My life _is over_. It’s fucking over, and you— _”_ He gestures wildly at Billy _. “_ Couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut!?”He practically yells.

Billy wipes the edge of his dick clean against Steve’s inner thigh before standing up, putting it back into his pants. “Take a goddamn chill pill, Harrington. _No one’s_ gonna believe her.”

With his jeans and belt fastened once again, Billy grabs his shirt from the floor and pats Steve’s leg just once more time before heading towards the door.

“…What— What are you doing?”

“ _What_ does it look like I’m doing?” He retorts, not even bothering to turn around. “ _I’m dipping._ ”

As the door closes, Billy can hear Steve cursing, probably realizing just the sort of situation Billy has left him in. “ _This motherfucker,_ ” Billy cackles, the image of Steve's absolutely disastrous state, covered in sweat and spit and cum, still vivid in his head. “ _This absolutely fucking dick_.”

He shakes his head and heads for the stairs. _Harrington_ can probably figure this one out for himself.

\---

“So,” Barb continues, taking a deep calming breath, “So you’re telling me that your room wasn’t a mess when you walked in?”

“ _Seriously,_ Barb?” Nancy whisper screams, shooting a death glare at Barb before stabbing an innocent piece of carrot with her fork. “It’s been a week! Can’t you just, like, let it go?”

Barb is agape, exasperated— There’s just no way this is happening. There’s no way this is happening to _her_. Nancy continues, “The entire house was disastrous after everybody left, but _that doesn’t matter_ , because I cleaned everything up." She swallows, lips pursed into a thin line, "My parents will never be able to tell anything happened. Mike hasn’t made any smartass comments since they arrived, so everything is— Barb, everything’s _fine_. Please chill.”

Barb uses her index finger to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose, still not ready to let this go. “I’m not crazy,” She turns left and right, as if making sure that their conversation stays secret even though they’re in the middle of the cafeteria, “I _know_ what I saw.”

She knows what she saw, indeed. And she _really_ wishes she hadn’t. Walking in on people when they’re having sex is already mortifying enough when they’re strangers— But she walked in on her best friend’s boyfriend, of all people. Her best friend’s boyfriend with _another boy_. Her best friend’s boyfriend with that meathead guy who has a pierced ear and does drugs. What is she supposed to do with this information?

“ _Barbara,_ ” Nancy lets her fork fall on her plate with a clank, throwing Barb an amused smile. “You’re telling me that you walked in on Billy and Steve having hooking up in my room,” Barb’s eyes go wide and she tries to shush Nancy. “ _Billy and Steve?_ _In my room?_ And you expect me to believe you?”

“I _know_ it sounds crazy, but _—_ ”

“Second hand high is _definitely_ a thing, you know? Scientists are _always_ researching about it,” Nancy tries to rationalize, lifts a finger. “Or maybe _—_ Maybe you were a little drunk?”

Barb is beyondoffended. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Unlike you, I was stone cold sober.”

“Well, okay. There’s no way that happened, though. Trust me.” Nancy huffs, before grabbing her fork again. “So please drop it.”

Barb knows, she _knows_ that Nancy’s relationship with Steve hasn’t been the best as of lately, but to say that she is frustrated right now would be an understatement.

Especially because later that day, when she pours into the fairly empty parking lot and heads for her Volkswagen, she sees it. She sees it in broad daylight.

Steve’s there, his back facing her as he sits on the hood of Billy’s Camaro, like he’s one of those thirsty, lanky girls that follow Billy around at all times. Billy approaches him with a devious grin blooming on his face and as soon as he’s at arm’s length, Steve hooks a finger on his belt loop and yanks him closer.

Before anything else can happen, though, Billy sees Barb.

She swallows, fidgeting with her car keys, anxious. She’s not above having a confrontation with this guy, no matter how intimidating and gross he looks. He wouldn’t hit her, she thinks. She doesn’t think Steve would let him, anyways— Although she has _really_ started questioning what she knows about him now.

But no, there’s no confrontation. All Billy does is toss her a wink— A wink and smile showered with his cliché bad boy charm. Straight out of a John Hughes movie, not impressive at all.

Still, it's the kind of facial expression Barb reads as _Nancy's never going to believe you_.

It makes her blood boil. She gets in her car, plopping into the driver's seat with a frustrated huff and backs out of the parking lot as quickly as she can.

She misses it when Steve says, “You were right. Nancy doesn’t cut it anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Clears throat* Uh, yeah.  
> 28/03/20 I had fucked up the POV towards the end and it's been bugging me for months, so I came back and fixed it heheheh
> 
> Also, second hand high is NOT a thing. People in the 80's totally thought it was, though.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://steveskhakis.tumblr.com/)


End file.
